New Beginnings
by the word crafter
Summary: Hermione's life, post-Battle of Hogwarts, seems perfect. But one important part is missing.
1. Chapter 1

The dress was long and simple, a pure, untouched white. Her long tresses hung to her lower back, flowing in the late afternoon wind. It was the perfect day for a wedding, a perfect day for _her_ wedding. It was with this belief that Hermione Jean Granger walked down the aisle towards the beginning of her future.

* * *

><p>The flat was small and empty. The front room combined parlor, dining room, and kitchen. The wood floors creaked under their collective weight.<p>

"How do you like it, 'Mione?" asked Ronald Weasley.

Hermione struggled to find words. Ever since she'd first gotten her Hogwarts letter, she'd dreamed that, after her seven years at school, she'd rent her own apartment, get a magical job, get married. Even if these events were happening in scrambled order, she was happy. Even though the flat wasn't perfect, she was excited. Even though they were poor, she was bursting with love and life and laughter…Hermione's existence was perfect.

"Oh _Ronald!_" She threw herself into her husband's arms, the weight of her joy bearing down on him. He grinned, his fiery red hair peeking above hers as they shared a celebratory kiss. All he'd ever wanted was her—and now that he'd gotten the girl of his dreams, everything else would sort itself out.

"I know it's not much, but it's a start," he whispered into her hair. "It's our start—our new beginning."

* * *

><p>The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts had left the wizarding world in mourning and disarray. Even though the Dark Lord had been vanquished, even though the Death Eaters had been destroyed, even though their world was peaceful, the memories and the pain from the long war remained.<p>

The deaths, the absences, the missing ones…none of that pain had been healed after Voldemort had fallen. Thousands of funerals were held in the following weeks, thousands of hearts were broken.

Although the Weasley family itself had ultimately been spared decimation, the absence of Fred was duly noted every day. George was a shell of his former self, empty since his twin brother had died. Molly's tears fell when she was alone, when she was folding laundry or washing dishes or cleaning the house. With nobody to comfort her when she needed it the most, the Weasley mother fell into a state of depression that had only been slightly cured after Ron's and Hermione's wedding.

Remus, Tonks, Colin, Lavender—Snape. Each death hit them with the force of a thousand stampeding centaurs. Dobby, Ollivander, Xenophilius, Ted…Sirius, Cedric, James, Lily…_Fred_—the names flew from their minds and into their hearts as the list went on. The tears had been shed but the pain still remained. Even those they'd never been close to—even Vincent _Crabbe_—sparked a new flood of sobs.

The thought that Harry had almost joined their ranks broke Hermione's heart, and tore at Ron's, because without Harry they were just two people who could only depend on each other. But Harry hadn't died, and every time they saw his face they were flooded with relief and joy. When Harry started dating Ginny and got a job and a house; whenever he accomplished any of the most mundane things, his best friends were reminded that if he'd been gone, he'd never have been able to do anything, ever again. And such were the reminders.

But the apartment seemed to be, for the newlyweds, the first step to a lengthy and painful recovery. Hermione dedicated their first few weeks to redecorating; furnishing the flat with old Weasley furniture that'd been kept in the garden shed (that seemed too small to store the multitudes of relics it had), and Ron joined Harry in the Auror Department, fighting to imprison or kill the remaining Death Eaters, and bring them to justice—Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa, the most prominent among them.

At first, very little money went to their savings. Food needed to be bought, utensils, tools, curtains, sheets, beds, chairs, _books_—all were necessary, and quite quickly it became difficult to pay the rent. Although they (to Hermione's discomfort) were forced to Obliviate the landlord several times, the month's lease was eventually paid, and for four weeks, at least, they continued their quiet existence.

It was Hermione who eventually saved the young couple from tumbling headfirst into debt. After Poppy Pomfrey had healed her teeth and cured her of her cat affliction and reanimated her after she had become paralyzed, the young girl was quickly drawn towards the magical art of Healing. It was at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries that Hermione found a job as an under-Healer. It was her extensive résumé from her Hogwarts career that allowed her to nab such an elusive spot before she'd even attended Healing School, but she realized quite suddenly that she would have to, and soon.

And so, even though the young bride had been hired into a well-paying job, the cost of medical school once again brought the couple dangerously close to what Hermione referred to as "bankruptcy."

However, their happiness never ebbed, and even as they struggled they were presented with extremely generous opportunities. For their fame had not faded after the Battle—together with Harry, they were the Golden Trio, who'd fought against Voldemort from their first year at Hogwarts. Interviews were frequently pitched and book deals were thrown in the air. Fan mail was often a source of annoyance for their landlord, Mr. Pratt—being a Muggle, his only reaction to the hordes of owls perched all over his roof and front sidewalk was pure irritation.

Their hectic lives became even more so when Harry and Ginny became engaged. Hermione, in addition to her job at St. Mungo's and her night classes at the Healing Institute, was dragged into the planning process. As always, the wedding was to be held at the Burrow. Hermione was to be the Maid of Honor and Ron the Best Man; every cliché story of a wedding party romance seemed stereotypically true between the happy, tired couple. After the wedding, Harry's and Ginny's new flat also underwent an extreme makeover project, in which Hermione was also included. Although her life was extremely busy and sometimes stressful, she remained, as ever, the sturdy, loyal, and helpful Hermione.

When she found she was pregnant the whole wizarding world rejoiced for their _enceinte _heroine. In addition to the Weasley-held baby shower, hosted and organized by Ginny, Luna, Cho, Lavender, Parvati, and Mrs. Weasley, gifts poured into the small flat from all corners of the world, further infuriating Mr. Pratt, although, thankfully, he did not realize this was because of the new couple.

Hermione's life seemed, if anything, perfect. She had a husband, a career, friends, a career, and a loving family. But guilt slowly enveloped her soul—she had not yet found her parents in Australia. She missed their smiling faces and confused visages as she described her different magical accomplishments and voyages to them. Even though she'd wiped their memories to protect them, she felt that she should've gone to release them of the curse already.

It was with the weight of her life upon her shoulders that she left the London flat with Ron to go find her past.


	2. Chapter 2

For Muggles, it would've taken roughly twenty-four hours to arrive in Sydney from London. For Ron and Hermione, the span of time they spent traveling was only five minutes. And the reason that it took even _that _long was because they got momentarily lost in the Floo Network.

They'd been expecting to appear in the grate of a wizarding pub, The Drunken Goblin, but had instead shown up, to the shock of a pair of Muggle children, in the living room of a suburban house in Barcelona, Spain. It took only a few seconds to erase their memories before they finally stumbled their way into the fireplace at the bar in Australia.

Hermione had never before left Europe; Ron only once, when his father had won the Ministry of Magic jackpot and bought them plane tickets to visit his brother Bill, in Egypt. Australia, they found, wasn't very different than Britain—the same tipsy warlocks and ogres practically inhabited the tavern as they often did in the Leaky Cauldron.

Smoke hung in the air as Ron, holding Hermione close, headed towards the door.

"Thassa pri'ee wish you got there," leered a withered wizard, slurring his words drunkenly.

"Eh, eh, Ernie, y'er rih', she is pri'ee pri'ee," agreed another.

"'S not fair, all the pri'ee ones are taken by big blokes like _tha._" The first wizard, Ernie, pointed at Ron, who was glaring at him. The tips of his ears were definitely turning a rosy pink, and his grasp on Hermione stiffened as he approached the men.

"Don't make me punch you," he growled, conversationally. Hermione squeaked, unwillingly, behind him, clapping her free hand oer her mouth.

"_Ron!_" she squealed nervously. The entire bar had turned towards the source of commotion. "Ron, come on, let's go." She tugged at his hand, but he didn't move, his face dangerously red, inches from Ernie's.

"'Ey, he's protec, _hic_, ting the pri'ee one. Ain't he, Georgie?"

"If you say one more word about my _wife,_ I'll Stun you so badly you won't wake up for days, and when you do, I'll Stun you again," Ron added conversationally, the anger in his voice struggling under the surface.

Ernie and Georgie drew back, their palms in the air. Ron gave one final glare and allowed himself to be pulled by Hermione towards the exit. As the door swung behind them, she chided him, although not too harshly. She was actually quite impressed, and pleased, by Ron's show of affection and bravado.

"You really shouldn't go picking fights, Ron," she said softly, stroking his hair calmly.

"Picking fights? Hermione, did you _hear_ the way they were talking?" he choked, remembering. "I had to do something, those gits were asking for it." His ears were slowly turning back to their usual shade, and his face was already its normal, pale, freckled self.

Hermione kissed him on the cheek, and his face flushed again, this time in happiness. Ron grabbed her hand, this time more softly, and they walked towards the center of town, towards the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

><p>They entered through the standard telephone booth as guests, just as Harry had done the day of his hearing, before their fifth year.<p>

"What are your names?" asked a cool, calm voice, for which there was no evident body.

"Ron and Hermione Weasley," replied Hermione quickly. "We're here to locate missing persons." Ron blushed as she attached his last name to her first one. He still hadn't gotten used to the fact that Hermione was really his—to make up for this, he kissed her gently and quickly on the back of her head. Hermione leaned back against his shoulder as they waited for the telephone booth to reach its destination.

As the door opened, two pins slipped from the change chute.

One read, _Ron Weasley, Investigator_, and the other read the same, with Hermione's name in place of it. Pinning them to their chests, the two British wizards stepped from the booth and into the crowded Australian Ministry of Magic.

Instead of the long, tunnel-like corridor outfitted with fireplaces for the Floo Network, they entered a sizeable room filled with large, floating rugs. Above them, a sign read "For Carpool Use Only. Strictly Monitored."

"Those are banned in Britain," breathed Hermione excitedly. "I suppose Ali Baba's made more of an impression on Australia's government, then." Tentatively, she touched a rippling Oriental carpet.

On the opposite side of the room was a collection of broomsticks, hanging on hooks above which were labels inscribed with the names of their owners. In the far corner was a grouping of haphazardly piled mattresses, over which hung a sign saying "Apparition." Hermione giggled.

"Not very well organized, are they, the Aussies?"

Ron grinned. "Nothing compares to Britain." He rubbed her back affectionately as they proceeded through the large archway into the main branch of the Ministry of Magic.

A large banner, proclaiming the fall of Voldemort, hung from the uppermost gallery. _"The Dark Lord has Fallen!"_ it read, in brilliant golden lettering, that glittered in the sunlight pouring in through the glass dome on the ceiling. Witches, wizards, house-elves, goblins, centaurs, ogres, giants, even hippogriffs and unicorns, led by their owners, bustled through the front lobby, shuffling papers, calling out to one another, some even minding their own business, enveloped in their own affairs. It was, all in all, very similar to the Ministry of Magic in London.

"The Department of Missing Magical Persons is on the…fifth floor," read Ron, pointing to a sign hovering above their heads. "Come on," he said, pulling her towards the elevators.

"Oh, I don't fancy elevators," murmured Hermione. "Remember that time I was stuck with Umbridge? Or maybe you didn't…no, it was after you got off. It was awful," she added.

Ron grinned. "I was kind of hoping you'd say that, actually. The other means of interdepartmental travel is actually quite novel to us." He pointed towards a grouping of chariots, pulled by flying horses, on the far end of the lobby.

"Pegasus," whispered Hermione dreamily. "Impractical, but…Good Merlin, Ron, can we please?"

He nodded, pleased at her wonder. "That time that the Beauxbatons students came I hoped I could nip the reins from Hagrid one evening, seeing as Madam Maxime and him were so…_close_." He grinned, nudging Hermione, and she laughed loudly.

"Come on, Ronald, let's go!"

The day's earlier animosity forgotten, the newlyweds ran, hand-in-hand, towards the chariots.

* * *

><p>Hermione held Ron's hand the entire way up. When at first they'd been ushered into an empty carriage by a bored, teenage employee, nothing had happened. Seconds later, the pegasi pulling the chariot lurched forwards in a shaky gallop, finally gathering enough speed to lift the chariot into the air.<p>

Clinging to each other and to the sides of the chariot, Ron and Hermione screamed with glee as they soared high above the lobby. Sometimes the carriage assumed an almost-vertical position, and they scrambled for footing, almost falling from the dangerous chariot.

When the pegasi finally landed on the strip of hallway reserved for the chariots, the couple fell, doubled over with laughter and nausea, onto the marble floor. Hand in hand, they made their way towards the entrance to the Department for Missing Magical Persons, eyes bright with the memory of their last, albeit quick, adventure.

* * *

><p>"You're looking for a pair of Obliviated Muggles, on the loose somewhere in Australia, with no further specifications?" asked the incredulous receptionist in the Department's lobby.<p>

"Their names were changed to Wendell and Monica Wilkins," added Hermione nervously. "They're my parents."

"And your name is…?" asked the receptionist, noting Hermione's additions.

"Hermione Jean Granger Weasley, wife of Ronald Weasley."

The receptionist's eyes flicked upwards, realizing quite suddenly that she was addressing two members of the Golden Trio, who'd defeated the darkest wizard in wizarding history. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink as she hurriedly copied down their names.

"Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," whispered the receptionist.

She led them through two sets of double doors, into an office.

"This is the Head's office," she said. "He'll be right with you, he's currently organizing a Welcome Back party for two missing centaurs."

She scurried away, her face bright red, leaving Ron and Hermione by themselves in the large office. A large, ceiling-height window opened out to reveal the entirety of Sydney. In front of it sat a large mahogany desk, littered with neat stacks of papers and manila folders.

The walls were lined with notebooks, journals, anthologies, binders, and encyclopedias—a library of information. Awed, Hermione left her place next to Ron to run her finger along their spines, reading the titles, giving an appreciative "oh" every so often.

"Mrs. Weasley," said a voice from behind them.

Hermione sprang about, her hand jumping into Ron's. The Head of the Department of Missing Magical Persons, a small, rotund man, balding, and clad in a chipper black robe set, smiled at the pair.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," he said, reaching out a hand. Hermione and Ron both shook it rather nervously.

"No need to be anxious, no need to be anxious," said the man loudly and cheerily. "Of course, I know all about _you_. Ron and Hermione Weasley, Harry Potter's best friends, Horcrux-hunters, who brought the Dark Lord down…" He smiled, opening his arms, his palms up, spreading expansively.

"My Department is yours for the using. Your parents, Mrs. Weasley, will be found. An exception for non-magical persons has been made and currently my best finders and investigators are searching for Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins…or, should I say, _Granger_." He winked, as though he had just shared with them a hilarious joke. Hermione laughed politely. When Ron made no effort to indulge the Head, his wife stepped on his toes. After letting out a yelp of pain, he quickly joined Hermione's laughter.  
>"Thank you, Mr...? Hermione trailed off uncertainly.<p>

"Dirk Balwin," he filled in.

"Thank you, Mr. Baldwin," she finished. "This means a lot to Ron and I. It's wonderful you're so generous to help."

"Anything for Ron and Hermione Weasley!" he said pompously. "We'll have the results of your search in a few hours…until then, feel free to explore the magnificent city of Sydney!" Mr. Baldwin pointed grandly towards the large window.

"Thank you, Mr. Baldwin," Hermione repeated, and, with a parting goodbye, they left the Ministry of Magic.

In just a few hours, she would once again see her parents; and regain the keys to her childhood.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Please, don't criticize me for my shotty description of Sydney—I've never been and I expect it's a wonderful place, but I really don't know what it's like. Instead criticize me for my other writing inconsistencies and problems.

* * *

><p>Sydney was a pleasant place, if a bit noisy—in that department, it was comparable to London. Ron and Hermione wandered aimlessly through the city, going into shops and cafés at random. It was a few hours before they found the Magical District, which was quite different from Diagon and Knockturn Alleys; it seemed more modern and developed—it was definitely much larger. Since it rested on the outer edge of the city, there was more room for it to grow—and grow it certainly had.<p>

They passed Zonko's Joke Shop, which had apparently expanded globally. The couple peered inside, reminded of their first Hogsmeade visit; without Harry, Ron and Hermione had felt guiltily free. Free of his sadness and deep thoughts and angst—and free to share their feelings. It was Zonko's that they remembered most from that trip. How Ron had offered Hermione a miniature of Moaning Myrtle coughing up slugs—they'd shared a laugh, there—and how they'd toyed playfully with the different products. They hadn't been to Hogsmeade, or Hogwarts, since the Battle and the following night, but the memories flowed back easily.

Different emporiums, shops, department stores, boutiques, and teashops drew their interest. Hermione felt carefree amongst the bustling Australian witches and wizards—it was this feeling, she realized absently, that she'd craved her entire, stressful life. This feeling and having Ron by her side, she corrected herself, as though she'd been stupid not to include his presence in her first statement. To prove it, she kissed him.

"D'you reckon we should head back?" asked Ron.

"I suppose," allowed Hermione grudgingly. Immediately, she felt guilty. Shouldn't she be pleased that they were making some headway in the search for her parents? After all, hadn't finding them been all she'd wanted since she'd Obliviated them and sent them here? Struggling with her emotions, she decided simply to relax and let Ron lead her back to the Ministry.

* * *

><p>"They're in Lajamanu," said Mr. Baldwin, a smile plastered across his face. "In the Outback. We'll provide you with transportation for the trip; it's not that far by an Armenian make, I reckon. They're the fastest in the making." He nodded wisely. "Alright then, I'll have Coleen set you up." With a final salute, the Head of the Department of Missing Magical Persons disappeared into his office.<p>

The scared receptionist escorted them to the room they'd first come to upon entering the Ministry. She led them towards a beautiful, patterned carpet tethered to the wall. Hermione was shocked. _Flying carpet?_ First pegasi-drawn chariot, now this? Today must be her day.

* * *

><p>After Ron had mounted it, he offered Hermione a hand up.<p>

"Right through there," said the nervous Coleen. "And up. They'll let you through." She pittered nervously away on her high heels back up to the fifth floor, leaving Ron and Hermione to stare at the rug upon which they were sitting.

"Go?" said Ron hopefully.

The carpet jerked to life. Instinctively, Hermione clutched at Ron as the sped through the lobby of the Ministry. Hovering ever upwards, the pair, grinning and laughing, floated towards the window dome, which lifted off the roof, allowing the rug to shoot out above the expansive city.

"Ron, this is spectacular!" cried Hermione above the rushing of the window. He grinned, enveloping his wife in his arms, caressing her stomach where their baby now resided. Ronald Weasley had always wanted Hermione; and when he'd found that they were dating, and getting married, and having a child, he knew he'd reached the maximum point of happiness. That was before he'd ridden on a magic flying carpet with the girl of his dream, the very same girl who was so definitively _his. _

"I know," he said under his breath, so low Hermione couldn't hear him. "I know."

* * *

><p>It became evident that the carpet knew its way around Australia and definitely didn't need their direction. After the initial joy of the experience wore off, the sobriety of the situation became apparent, especially in Hermione's drawn face.<p>

"What if we don't find them?" she asked, her voice small.

"We'll find them, Hermione," promised Ron.

"But…"

"There's no question about it. The Department for Missing Magical Persons isn't likely to send us on a wild-goose-chase—at least, not _us_," he amended thoughtfully. "Did you see the look on the Head's face? Meeting us was probably the crowning moment of his career." He laughed.

"Don't be so _big-headed_, Ron," chuckled Hermione. "But even if we _do _find them, what if I can't reverse their memories? What if I can't bring them back?"

Ron peered down at her, his face a mask of pure shock.

"Hermione! You're the best witch I've ever met—you're the best witch in the world! You know how to turn a rat into a teacup, you can _swish and flick _with the best of them, and in our first year, you identified helped Harry get the Sorcerer's Stone before that Quirrell bloke. Oh, not to mention, you just helped kill the bloody meanest wizard in history." He shook his head unbelievingly. "Sometimes I just don't get you, Hermione."

Smiling, Hermione leaned against him. Ron was right, she thought. She was just putting too much pressure on herself. Because they would find her parents, they would reverse their memories, restore their family, and return to England, where all the pieces of her life would fall neatly into place.

If Hermione believed in fairytales, she might have believed herself.


End file.
